


The Logic of Love

by Duco_Lacuna



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/M, Love, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-29
Updated: 2010-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-11 08:16:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duco_Lacuna/pseuds/Duco_Lacuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lonely Hermione Granger has found a worthy partner of business in the bored Lucius Malfoy, but their contract is broken when business becomes something more personal. How does the mind understand what the heart dictates?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Logic of Love

The sighs that escaped their kiss-swollen lips were breathless and rhythmic, just like their movements as they finished their business and fulfilled the terms they had both agreed on. Hermione watched Lucius give one final thrust before the warmth of his essence filled her, and he collapsed beside her on the small double bed, throwing himself with practised ease to avoid crushing her with his greater weight.

The quietude that settled between them as they caught their breaths was a neutral one; neither had any wish or obligations to break the peace descending upon them. They lay side by side, both chests heaving from the aftermath of their activities, their sweat-covered bodies not touching, except for Lucius' arm which was still hooked under Hermione's neck and remained there as he was too busy savouring his relish to move.

Hermione lay with open eyes, looking up at the ceiling of the somewhat dingy room they always rented every Friday for one night. The dark beams that crossed the chamber had meshes of light grey cobwebs floating gently in the hot air of the room, and the place itself exuded a feeling of neglect and negligence. Yet, she really didn't have a piece of herself to spare on worrying about the state of their room. She had no care, as it had been a mutual agreement after all, to sacrifice luxury for guaranteed anonymity.

As she lay with the bed sheets clinging to her legs, she thought about her life from the faraway bubble she always fell into after making love with Lucius. When she had satisfied herself with him, she could always think without emotions, and it often made her perspective on life much simpler. It was just a shame she couldn't be so simple-minded at all times.

A year had already passed since Lucius had undressed her for the first time, and yet Hermione could remember it as if it had been her first encounter with a man. She could recall detaching herself from the nervous feeling she had picked up as soon as Lucius had slid her little black dress down, as if he had pulled away her identity as 'Hermione Granger: Best Friend of The Boy Who Lived'. The feeling of freedom she had felt as Lucius slowly pushed her back on the bed had been so overwhelming, and that night, she had ended up weeping without knowing what for. Lucius had been surprisingly good, silently holding her as her tears streaked his chest, remaining apathetic enough to not seem personal, but giving her the comfort she had needed.

Sometimes, when her public life got too much and drove her into moments of insanity, Hermione simply remembered that first night, a night of many beginnings.

She had met Lucius at the newly refurbished Knockturn Alley one afternoon while at a bookstore, she in search of a shelter away from the suffocating closeness of friends, and he in aimless wandering. They had greeted each other with little animosity, both too drained of life to continue any hate that had once been between them. Instead, there had been intrigue on both sides; Hermione had been at the stage when she was curious as to what life was like on the other side of the fence, and Lucius was willing to show her, being bored of life as he knew it.

Talk had turned to thoughts being spilt and confessions spoken in low tones that had made them come up with a deal that still made little sense to them. Hermione had insisted it all be kept strictly business, and no personal touches, to which Lucius had agreed without protest, seeing as he was a man who prized his privacy. Matters had been discussed and they had ended up adjourning to a nearby inn that was somewhat shabby, but an invisible spot in a world of happy faces.

As soon as they had got hold of their key and took to the rickety stairs, Lucius had initiated the contract by tasting Hermione, his hands pushing her against the cold wall as he had tested her word of agreement. It had been a wild moment, sudden and shocking in the temperature change it induced in both individuals as they went from being professionally detached to drinking each other in with an intensity that would have frightened any onlooker.

That first kiss had been the liberation Hermione had been looking for. She knew she had found the right man in Lucius when the heat had exploded in her lower regions, but her head remained cool and turned a blind eye on her traitorous activities.

They had broken away from each other after a while and walked the last stretch of the wooden floor to their room without any lingering passion, just two people going towards the same spot. But once the door of their shared chamber had been opened and locked behind them, their senses had been lost in the sheer lust that had followed.

Hermione pictured the events of the night in her mind, able to remember each touch and sigh with vivid clarity. She remembered how Lucius had tasted of the red wine they had both consumed as they had talked, and the feel of his powerful hands gripping her bare thighs as he had worshipped her naked breasts with fervent strokes of his tongue. The thought of his long fingers caressing her down below made Goosebumps rise on her soft skin even now, and the pain she had felt at his first thrust had been like the physical sacrifice she had had to give at throwing herself into such a bargain.

It had been strange; she had been with Ron before, but the fickle passion between them had only come from the love they had felt in their hearts. With Lucius however, the passion had raged like a wild beast on the loose, although Hermione's heart hadn't even uttered a passing murmur. The simplicity but perfection of their purely physical acquaintance was comforting to think of for Hermione; the man who had once judged her for being a Muggleborn no longer judged her for just wanting something to distract her from the closure that had become her life. She still dated occasionally and sometimes, those romances bloomed into something a bit more, but she had never missed a single date with Lucius, and any interest in other men had dwindled before long as Hermione couldn't cope with the sheer unpredictability of her own heart.

At least with Lucius, she knew what to expect and felt safe when she was with him. The business deal they had struck up so many months ago had become something of a prominent factor in her life. Wherever she went, she couldn't help herself from imagining the relief he would give her at the end of the week, when she would also be at the end of her tether. Life as a good and perfect witch had once been her dream, but even dreams fade away and Hermione's had turned more into a nightmare.

Sometimes, she wondered if she were becoming a little too attached to what was going on between her and Lucius. She had no real feelings for him, but she was secretly grateful to him for giving her something to look forward to in a life of monotonous goodness.

Now as she lay back in the afterglow of their coupling, she wondered what he was thinking, or if he was thinking at all. Turning slowly onto her side so that she was facing him, she studied his hardened features as he dozed. The patrician arrogance that oozed from him was something that actually attracted Hermione, much to her confusion. She remembered having immediately thought of several inappropriate things upon their first meeting since the war had ended, when they had both seen each other with new eyes, the past forgotten. His powerful charisma had still been present, even in his newly humbled bearing, although he had never quite managed to drop his stance as a haughty aristocrat. Hermione had been filled with mixed emotions as his masculine aura that she had never had a chance to notice before had aroused deep, somewhat animalistic sensations in her.

For a while, things had been straight and simple; they knew the routine like clockwork and every thrust was met with a sigh of satisfaction that never went beyond the physical.

But now, Hermione wondered if she had grown attached to Lucius himself, after so many nights spent in such great intimacy. She had once believed that people could sate their carnal desires without having any emotions involved, but doubts had been filling her head for the past few weeks. Her uncertainties had begun when she had started thinking about Lucius all the time, casually wondering what he would be doing when he was being head of the Malfoy family and apparently still an enemy of hers. She would envision his face often, his smooth, pale skin that was like Carrara marble, so warm despite the deceiving shade of his complexion. She frequently imagined his sensuous lips caressing her and kissing her, an act which she found so much pleasure in. His gentle yet firm hands as he held her close, the muscles of his back and buttocks clenching as he moved above her. The tendons in his arms as he cradled her head, the sweat forming on his face as he picked up the pace of his bucking hips. However, the thought that brought her most pleasure was when she saw him tense and moan in a low voice as he prepared himself for the concluding wave of his pleasure, and his hips would jerk slightly as he was undone by her, by the Hermione who was supposed to know nothing but integrity.

It pleased her endlessly to know that she could bring him such satisfaction, and she often forgot that their initial deal had been made so that they could both have the relief they craved. The ecstasy he gave her through his body was more than enough in itself, but it was the feeling of safety she felt when in the sanctuary of his arms that truly sealed the contract.

Looking at him now, she wondered what he felt. About her.

She watched in continued silence as his eyes fluttered open, the light grey irises so hardened and inexpressive. Within seconds of waking, he turned to look at her, aware that she was watching with profound curiosity.

"Hermione..." he drawled at great length, saying nothing more, but knowing that the single utterance of her name was enough. Hermione always felt such...joy in hearing him say her name which had been like a forbidden word for his tongue. His infrequent usage of it signified the lack of boundaries between them which were usually present whenever they lived their other lives.

"Lucius..." she whispered back, reaching out to slide her hand slowly up his upper thigh, over his hips and along his torso until she found his free hand and interlaced her fingers with his.

"What is it?" he murmured with eyes half-closed again, allowing her to hold his hands as if they were lovers in both body and heart.

"I was thinking..." Hermione began before she tailed off, uncertain how she should word her thoughts.

"Don't you do enough of that already?" he sighed as he blinked lazily and smirked slightly, his eyes meeting hers and holding them in a steady gaze.

"I - I want to tell you something. I _need_ to tell you something."

"I am listening; go on," he said with a languid nod, completely relaxed in her presence and clearly unashamed of their mutual nakedness.

"I think I'm..." Hermione started before stopping, unable to figure out if what she wanted to say was a passing whim, or something more.

"In love with another man," Lucius finished for her, not even batting an eyelid at the thought. Hermione breathed out in relief as he rescued her yet again by suggesting such fine ideas, and tailored her thoughts so that it suited the situation better.

"Yes! Yes. That was what I was trying to say," she said a little breathlessly, her heart beating faster again as she gazed directly into his eyes to gauge his reaction. She was disappointed when he did nothing but suppress a yawn and fix her with his indifferent eyes.

"It happens," he drawled as he untangled his fingers from hers and reached over to brush back the stray curls of her wild hair. "Enjoy it while it lasts."

"But what about you?" Hermione asked with fluttering anticipation, hoping to hear something but wanting to block her ears at the same time.

"I shall live. I have yet to find something that will kill me so easily," he said as he closed his eyes once more, as if to go back to sleep, his hand having drifted down to rest comfortably on Hermione's waist.

"Wait, I lied," Hermione told him abruptly, causing his to open his eyes slightly to glance at her with mild interest.

"Ah, you shock me," he replied in a bored tone.

"No really, please listen," Hermione pleaded with him, sitting up slightly so that she could breathe a little easier in the air that had suddenly thickened, feeling Lucius' eyes follow her every movement with growing curiosity. Hermione licked her lips as she inhaled deeply, summoning all the courage within her to prepare herself for what she was about to say.

"I - I think I love you."

Lucius blinked rapidly, then narrowed his eyes as he looked at her carefully, fully awake. Hermione watched him with pounding apprehension, holding her breath as she waited for a reaction. As each second ticked past, her panic increased and the butterflies in her stomach beat violently inside her, while her head whirled with annoyance at herself for saying something so stupid.

"You _think_ you love me?" Lucius said at last, his tone deadly serious as his eyes gleamed with something that could have been mistaken as grim menace.

"No, I _know_ I love you," Hermione pressed on, her mouth uttering the words that her mind was raging against. Lucius just stared at her for a long time, his face blank and his eyes trained intensely on her own.

"I love you," Hermione repeated, growing increasingly frustrated at him for not giving any appropriate reaction and for making her look like the little fool she secretly feared she was.

"Please, say something!" she cried suddenly when the silence grew too much, threatening to choke her with the weight of the atmosphere.

"What would you like me to say?" Lucius questioned warily, still not having moved at all, but the feeling of ease had long left his body, which was now riddled with tension.

"Anything! Just say something..." Hermione begged him quietly, blushing with embarrassment at the pitiful tone of her voice. "I want you to say something..."

"This is a mistake," Lucius muttered at last, glancing somewhat angrily and flustered around the room. "You know I cannot give you what you want!"

"Why not?" Hermione challenged him, her desire to be rid of her embarrassment making her bolder than her intention.

"Because this is a business deal! Strictly not personal," Lucius snarled as he sat up also and stepped off the bed to pace the small stretch of wooden floor at the end of the room, a bed sheet wrapped around his midriff as a careless afterthought.

"I cannot give you whatever it is that you think you want," he muttered vehemently, glancing at her now and then as he moved around. "The whole point of our bargain was to keep things devoid of emotions. I cannot have you breaking that rule or I shall have to find my satisfaction elsewhere."

"What, in some whorehouse where all the girls have already been taken by a thousand men?" Hermione sneered at him, covering the hurt she was feeling at his vigorous rejection with uncharacteristic malice.

"I don't take whores," Lucius ground out through clenched teeth, stopping in his tracks to glare at her darkly. "You are the lowest I go, and even lower than I ever intended to aim for!"

"If I'm so worthless, then why don't you go find yourself someone better?" Hermione snapped, his cruel words stabbing her like a knife in the heart.

"I may very well do just that," Lucius responded haughtily, tilting his head back to look down his nose at her. "Narcissa may be gone, but there are plenty of other beautiful women waiting for me, and none of them will be giving me this 'love' nonsense."

"Well, go find one then! I know that I don't want you here!" Hermione all but shouted at him, having leapt out of bed with another sheet wrapped around her to snarl at him with the fury of a woman scorned. Lucius gave her a leer as he fished his clothing off the back of a nearby chair and pulled them on with practised speed, before leaving her alone to weep for the second time since they had been together, but this time with no one to comfort in the dingy desolation of the room.

* * *

The winter had passed quickly that year. Hermione had barely noticed the change in the seasons, and when she did, it was already approaching Christmas. Everyone around her was busy preparing for celebrations and the entire atmosphere of the world had become stifling in its intense joviality. The sheer merriment of it all depressed Hermione and sent her further into being a recluse, unable to smile a real smile anymore. Several of her friends had noticed, but whenever they asked her to tell them all that was wrong, she simply dismissed their efforts with a forced smile and a faked laugh.

The truth was, she missed Lucius terribly, and it pained her to think that he didn't miss her. She knew that if he had, he would have returned to her by now. She had lost hope after two weeks when she had heard nothing from him. Although she was angry at him for ruining everything for her, deep down, she knew it was actually she who was to blame. After all, they had made an agreement which she had broken, and Lucius was a man of his word when it came to business arrangements.

It was in constant misery that Hermione was forced to greet the Christmas period. Everyone at work chatted about what they planned to do and who they planned to see and everywhere she went, she saw nothing but Christmas decorations that was enough to send her mad. All she wanted to do was to grieve and feel sorry for herself, yet life insisted that it carry on, rubbing her face in the fact that she couldn't enjoy the annual winter celebration like everyone else.

Resentment at both herself and the world built up inside her as she heard carefree laughter and saw wide smiles all the time. Harry, Ron, Ginny, and the other Weasleys had included her in the planning at first, but when they had realised she was in no mood to get involved, they had let her be, watching her from afar with concern but not knowing how to get past the wall of ice that Hermione had raised against them. They didn't know how to get her to open up to them, and after countless attempts to ask her and receiving curt, barbed replies from her, they have given up. Hermione had gone beyond the point of caring; it didn't bother her in the least that her friends had all but abandoned her. They meant nothing to her compared to Lucius.

Over the weeks, she had unwittingly made herself fall in love with Lucius as his refusal had brought about greater determination within her that made her truly believe that he was all that she wanted and needed.

The ironically cheerful Christmas season irritated her, and her gloomy mood did not improve when she realised that she had to attend a Ministry-related party because she worked in one of the departments. The closer the date of the party drew, the more worried and restless Hermione became.

On the night the event took place, the weather was perfectly wintry, with frost hanging sharply in the air and stars twinkling in the deep blue arc of the sky. Hermione was wearing a simple black dress that was elegant yet plain; a secret gown of mourning, though the meaning was hidden from everyone else. A small pearl necklace adorned her neck and she wore matching earrings, but that was the limited extent of her jewellery.

Holding a simple black clutch in one hand, she swept into the hall of a grand house belonging to one of the ministry officials and was greeted by the host with a smile and pretty compliments about her. Hermione managed to smile at all the right places before moving on to mingle with the many numbered crowds that lingered at the edge of the dance floor, in the hallways and outside on the stone balcony.

The sight of mistletoe hanging above one of the French doors that led outside made Hermione almost sneer in disdain, her black mood making her easily displeased with everything and anything. She managed to be polite to others however, and kept a smile plastered on her face whenever she encountered someone she knew. Harry, Ron and Ginny were all present, along with Mr and Mrs Weasley, Percy, George and Bill, and Hermione was careful not to appear too downtrodden before them, knowing that it would not yield any favourable results if she were to appear so.

Hours passed, and nothing happened that caught Hermione's interest in any way. After some thought, she decided to leave early for home and was on her way out, when her ears heard the voice that had been ringing inside her head for so many days.

" - And I really don't think it went too well. She took it rather badly," a familiar drawling voice said from near the shadows of the main doorway, and Hermione paused on her way there to look out into the darkness. She could see the silhouettes of two men standing just outside the great frame of the open doors, a cigar glowing in one of the men's hands. She strained her ears and eyes as she listened for more, heart in her mouth as adrenalin pumped through her at a ridiculous speed.

"Doesn't sound much different from your last girl," the other man said with a chuckle in a deeper voice, the end of his cigar glowing as he inhaled deeply. Hermione felt a wash of emotions overwhelm her and she began to hurry away back into the main hall in order to run away from the jealousy and resentment that was roaring inside her. Blinking back hot tears that were spilling out of her eyes, she made a sharp turn and bumped sharply into Ron who gave a grunt as they both stumbled backwards.

"Hermione? Are you alright?" he asked as he rubbed his shoulder ruefully where Hermione had smacked into him.

"Fine," she replied curtly as she bowed her head so that he wouldn't see her reddened eyes and her shameful face.

"Any problems?" the man with the cigar called from down the hallway, having come back in to return to the party. Hermione glanced back at him in horror, knowing that the only way she could live with her dignity partially intact was to escape before anyone drew closer.

"Well..." Ron started as he looked between his friend and the dark-haired stranger, but his words tailed off when he spotted the tall blond man a few steps behind the other wizard, and Ron's face darkened considerably.

"Malfoy..." he breathed as Lucius and his companion came to stop before them, eyeing the situation with mild interest. Hermione felt her heart skip a beat as she caught sight of the face that haunted her every thought and dreams and struggled to breathe evenly.

"Weasley," Lucius replied in his lazy voice, steely grey eyes flickering from the lanky redhead to the petite figure of Hermione cringing slightly behind him. Hermione caught the frown that creased his brow and saw his eyes darken and didn't wait for anything else, but turned away and fled.

She ran away from all of them, despite hearing Ron calling after her and heads turning as she flew through the hall and out one of the French doors to cross the length of the stone balcony and make a rushed descent down the grand stone steps that led down from the front entrance. She didn't pause to look back as she crossed the gardens, leaving one of her black heeled shoes behind as she rushed to the Apparition point and didn't hesitate to leave the grounds for the safety of her own home.

* * *

Crying made Hermione feel like a fool, but that was all she could do after such a blur of faces and words. All she could remember, was Lucius, and the way a shadow had fallen over his face upon him seeing her. Sitting on her cream couch in her tidy little living room, she sat in anguish as her heart made her life miserable. She felt terrible jealousy at the women who Lucius had had since her; hurt beyond words yet angry at herself for even thinking of love being something more.

Maybe love was overrated; Hermione couldn't really tell, but if feeling so tortured was being in love, Hermione wasn't sure that it was such a great thing. She hugged a pillow as she rocked herself into an uneasy sleep, the bitter tears drying slowly upon her flushed cheeks.

* * *

The sound of knocking at the door made Hermione open her eyes and peer around with confusion for a moment, before she remembered that she was back at her little cottage. She had fallen asleep without even turning the lights on, and the darkness of the night poured through the unveiled windows, the slip of a moon offering little illumination. There were several more sharp raps upon the door and Hermione sat up, rubbing her eyes slightly and trying to see what time the clock on the wall was saying.

It was a little past midnight, and Hermione was curious to know who had come to pay a visit at such a late hour. She suspected it would be either Ginny or Harry, as it wouldn't have been the first time they visited at inane hours to check on her. With a sigh, she rose and waved her wand as she walked to the front door, lighting up the small black chandelier hanging in her open living room area and several more candles in the house.

With a wary eye, she peeked through the spy hole of her door, but couldn't see anybody. Feeling a little scared and wary, she raised her wand as she pulled the door open and searched the dark shapes of the garden hedge and trees for any signs of her midnight visitor. Yet there was no one to be seen, and with a slight tremor of her weary heart, she retreated back in, only to glance down and see her single black shoe placed carefully on the doormat. She swallowed with some difficulty as she stared at the shoe, then bent down to pick it up and made a final glance around the front garden to determine the person who had been considerate enough to drop off her shoe. She supposed it might have been someone she knew, but she had her doubts, as she was sure Harry, Ron or Ginny would have at least greeted her before disappearing into the night.

With a troubled mind, she slowly closed the door and went to bed.

The morning came unexpectedly, hastening her awakening and making her scowl at the glaring rays of the winter sun. It took Hermione several minutes to wake herself fully, and even then, her senses still felt dull, just as they had been for the last few weeks. In an automated mode, she rose and got washed and dressed, slipping into her dark blue work robes without needing to think, her mind busy replaying every single humiliating moment of the night before.

It was only when she was pushing her feet into the black, low-heeled shoes she wore for work that she remembered the strange night-time call where she had found her lost shoe on her doormat. A wry smile tugged at her lips as she thought of Cinderella, except this time, Cinderella had no Prince Charming to whisk her away to their happily after. That part of fairytales was enough to make Hermione snort. Life could never end that happy… Only in stories…

With a sigh, she threw a handful of green Floo powder into the fireplace and stepped into the whoosh of flames.

* * *

Four hours passed in slow seconds, every tick of the clock striking far too slow for Hermione's liking. The lunch break came as a welcome distraction, even if Ron and Harry came and flanked her sides as they wandered off to Diagon Alley for food, surrounding her in a bubble of aimless chatter. In some ways, it was annoying to have constant prattle of the boys sounding in her ears, but it was also a good diversion to stop her from thinking too much.

"Yeah, he had, like, black hair and a moustache-beard combo," Ron was saying to Harry as they strolled just behind Hermione, like bodyguards of sorts.

"That sounds like Panes. He's a descendant of some pure-blood line. Can't remember which," Harry confirmed with a pensive nod as they passed the brightly decorated windows of the shops.

"Anyway, he was standing with Malfoy –"

Hermione flinched and looked up as _his_ name was spoken, the sounding of it stirring the great urn of tumultuous emotions within her. She had no idea how a single word could move her so, but it was enough to send her into a darker mood; a reject of that great thing called love.

"Hermione? Hermione! Are you alright?"

Harry was giving her shoulder a little shake and Hermione realised that she had marched past their usual eatery without a thought, having been completely preoccupied by her whirling thoughts. She saw the frowns that both her friends wore, and instinctively forced a weak smile onto her face to try and reassure that there was no need to worry about her. Not really…

"I'm fine, really," she told them with a weary smile, feeling bad that they were so concerned about her.

"No you're not," Ron told her firmly, placing his hands on her shoulders and making her face him squarely in the eyes. "You haven't been fine for weeks now, and it's starting to get really worrying."

"Ron, seriously," Hermione said with a sigh, looking away from his pale blue eyes. "I'm okay."

"Well, seems like there's nothing we can do until you're ready to admit that something's wrong," Ron huffed as he stepped back and crossed his arms, continuing to eye Hermione with scrutiny.

"Ron…" Hermione warned in a terser voice, giving him her bossiest look.

"Hermione, really, if you ever want to talk, you know we're here for you," Harry said gently, giving her arm a friendly little pat. Hermione managed a smile at that, glad that he was so understanding and feeling guilty for causing them anxiety. Still, there was nothing she could do to change her own moods until perhaps time had passed…a long time.

"Thanks, but I think I just need some alone time," she sighed as an excuse, starting to walk past them.

"If it's a guy that's bothering you, we'll beat him up for free!" Ron offered as she walked away. A slight grin escaped Hermione's lips and she gave a vague wave of her hand as she left her two friends behind and headed towards another familiar haunt of hers.

The little café that saw her most afternoons was usually empty, which was ideal for Hermione. She found the cosy atmosphere relaxing and relieving, helping to lift the slight burden that had settled on her. The friendly middle-aged witch who ran the café gave her a smile and a nod, serving up Hermione's favourite lunch of salad and pasta without even having to ask.

"Another slow day, dear?" Lindy, the owner, tut-tutted as she waddled over with the plates of food.

"Yes," Hermione sighed, glad to be away from everyone she knew and willing to loosen up before a stranger.

"Man troubles, by any chance?" Lindy asked with a sly wink, while Hermione heaved another sigh and momentarily hid her face in her hands. When she looked up again, Lindy was watching her with a sympathetic smile.

"Don't worry, love. If it's meant to be, it's meant to be," she said as she patted Hermione kindly on the shoulder and left her be. Hermione simply shook her head a smiled sadly.

"I wish…"

She ate her meal in silence, and by the time she got ready to leave, she realised that time had passed swiftly, leaving her only a few minutes to get back to work. In the flurry of rushing, two small woollen gloves were left behind.

* * *

"My gloves!" Hermione exclaimed as she halted in the middle of the bustling Atrium, causing minor collisions between several workers who had been striding behind her. Automatically spewing murmured apologies, she turned back in her tracks to return to her office, unable to remember where she had left them and assuming it had been on her work desk. Struggling to manoeuvre herself through the oncoming tide of witches and wizards homeward bound, Hermione silently swore as yet another ministry worker gave her a glare at having bumped into him.

Once she was free of the crowd, she inhaled deeply, striding past the security desk and heading for the golden grilles of the lifts. She had just pressed the button to call the lifts, when one of the security wizards called out to her.

"Miss Granger!"

"Yes?" she answered warily, wondering what the reason of the unexpected call could be. She walked back to the security desk in order to exchange words with the guard at a normal voice level and was more than surprised to see the stout, balding wizard hold out a pair of woollen gloves to her.

"These were left with an unsigned note saying they were yours," the security wizard explained gruffly as he handed them to Hermione, who did nothing but stare at them incredulously for a moment. When the spell of her astonishment came to a sudden end, she looked up to see the wizard looking at her curiously and muttered her thanks before turning back to join the waning crowd of ministry workers as they left for home.

As she walked with her eyes following the lines of the polished floorboards of the Atrium, Hermione wondered who could have found her gloves and left them to be collected. Thinking about it, she thought that she had probably left them back at the café, and perhaps Ron or Harry had come by later, only to have Lindy give them her gloves to return to her. Still, Hermione was sure the boys would have at least signed their names, if not, come delivered the gloves themselves.

Feeling both surprised and completely perplexed, Hermione stepped into the burst of green flames.

* * *

It had snowed in the night. The peaceful sea of white that greeted Hermione the next morning soothed her weary heart and brought a measure of blissful calm over her, leaving her mind emptied as her eyes feasted on the terrible beauty of a melancholic landscape in slumber. Sitting in bed, she felt a wave of relief as she realised that she had the next few days off as it was Christmas Day and the stack of files on her work desk wouldn't be needing her.

She knew she had to attend the friends and family gathering her loved ones were having over at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place where Harry was residing, but that would be in the evening. She had several hours of alone time before she had to get ready, and though the old Hermione wanted to protest, rant and scream that moping was definitely a useless occupation, the now Hermione countered that being cheerful was easier said than done.

Sighing in a whispered expressing of her inner anguish, Hermione half-heartedly wondered how she could be feeling so much pain, when the world was so happy and welcoming. She couldn't understand why love hurt so horribly, or why she had even fallen in love. She tried her best to apply her usual logic to the matter, but it was simply useless. Love couldn't be figured out by either logic or equations. Love couldn't be understood by mind or matter. It was simply there to be felt, be it good or bad.

There was neither reason nor predictability in love, and for someone like Hermione, it was sheer agony.

* * *

"Thanks for everything, Harry," Hermione said with a smile of gratitude as she stepped out of Grimmauld Place, wrapped up in her dark travelling cloak and scarf to ward off the nipping cold.

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Harry asked from the doorway, his face darkened by the night, but Hermione could still see the look of concern written across his features.

"Don't worry; I'll be fine," she reassured him before walking down the steps and letting herself out of the black iron wrought gate, glancing back briefly to give him a final wave before walking a little into the road and Disapparating home.

The squeezing sensation of Apparition had become something of a source of dark amusement for Hermione as she considered it to be an outward interpretation of what she was feeling inside. When her feet hit solid ground again, she took a second to orient herself, having landed just outside the low wooden gate of her own cottage. Pushing it open and walking up the path that ran up the centre of the pretty front garden, Hermione gazed at the white face of her sleeping house and solemnly enjoyed the beauty of the smiling structure as silver moonlight illuminated it.

At the front door, Hermione paused, turning a moment to look down the garden and past it, into the wide stretch of snow-covered field that glimmered brightly in the light of the almost-full moon. Placated by the serenity of nature's perfection, she turned back to the door, only to pause a moment as her eyes caught a slight movement to her right. Gripping her wand tighter, she positioned herself so that her back was to the front door in order to cover herself, and looked around the garden with narrowed eyes, adrenalin pumping through her as the result of fright and alarm.

She looked around for several long moments before she dismissed her suspicions as being a figment of her wine-fuelled imagination. Shaking her head slightly at her own foolishness, she turned back to face the front door once again and was reaching forward to open the door, when she jumped at the sound of a voice.

"The mind is a frightening thing, is it not?"

Hermione bit back a scream of fright at the presence of her unexpected visitor, but she had quickly brought herself back into control, knowing that there was little to fear from the owner of the smooth voice.

"What are you doing here?" she asked quietly, remaining facing the door, refusing to confront her visitor as she was scared she was just imagining it.

"Do you think me to be some kind of phantom?" _his_ voice drawled quietly from directly behind her, his close proximity setting fire to the embers of Hermione's thumping heart.

"A figment of your imagination?" he continued at her lack of response.

"You might as well be," Hermione managed to say at last, having found the voice she had lost at his arrival.

"Look at me."

With a tearing of her heart, Hermione swallowed as she gathered courage and slowly turned around to look up at the face that had been haunting her day and night, asleep and awake. There, in all his magnificent indifference, stood Lucius, his skin as pale as the snow and his eyes gleaming like the silver moon. There, in what Hermione feared could be her imagination, stood the one person she had been living for. The one person she was dying for.

He hadn't changed; it was as if they had seen each other only yesterday. Time and separation had done nothing to mark him. He was still proud, arrogant, defiant, regal, incredible…

"Why did you come here?" Hermione asked in a hushed murmur, wanting nothing more than to be crushed in his embrace. Wanting nothing more than to shatter the illusion as swiftly as possible to lessen the pain of the mirage of something too good to be true.

"To see you."

His answer pierced Hermione's heart like an icicle; so cold and so harsh. She couldn't believe what she was hearing, and could barely believe what she was seeing. Lucius hated her; there was no reason for him to be standing before her, announcing that he had somehow found his way to her house and was telling her he wished to see her, in the middle of the night. There could be no reason possible to explain his sudden appearance, or the way Hermione was slowly forgetting to breathe as she simply stared at him in order to drink in the beloved shadow before he would vanish. There could be no logical elucidation for his presence. But then again, there was no reasoning in love.

"Hermione…"

Hermione almost choked at the sound of her name rolling off his liquid tongue, reminding her so strongly of every touch, every kiss, every sigh. She couldn't think or breathe or cry as her heart shattered beneath his unintentional cruelty. She couldn't speak or sigh or object when he stepped forwards and he raised his arms to carefully draw her to him. Closing her eyes, Hermione expected his spectre limbs to pass through her like the night breeze, but opened them quickly when she felt herself held against a richly-robed chest, the soft black wool of his cloak strangely familiar.

"I am no ghost," Lucius murmured into her ear as he pressed his cold cheek against hers, his gloved hands sliding gently around her back and holding her. Confusion clouded Hermione, stalling her thoughts as she felt herself melting into him; she, the mercury, and he, the gold.

"Lucius…" Hermione whispered, tasting his name which she hadn't said in weeks.

"I am here," he replied reassuringly as he held her with arms that had tightened at the sound of her speaking his name.

"Why have you come?" Hermione asked quietly as she tilted her head back to look him in the eyes.

"Perhaps you could explain it to me," Lucius answered with a shadowed smirk, his eyes glittering with something akin to mischief.

"Me? Explain?" Hermione said with a frown of confusion as she slowly stepped out of his embrace, surprised that he was not a dream.

"I have tried both women and wine to make myself forget, but my mind can never let it go," Lucius spoke in a low voice, not making a move to prevent Hermione from creating space between them.

"Never let what go?" Hermione asked, her heart racing.

"Every touch, every kiss, every sigh," Lucius murmured while Hermione stared at him with wide eyes, astonished by his recital of the very words reeling through her head. The thing that astounded her all the more, was the fact that she was certain the words were his, not read from her.

"No matter how many hours I spent on distractions, that was all they remained; distractions," Lucius continued, taking a small step towards her. "I have driven myself into madness and back searching for explanations."

"Explanations to what?" Hermione asked, her blood pounding in her ears as she watched him take another step, closing the gap between them.

"This desire; this pain; this urge; this feeling," Lucius said in a low voice as his hand slowly sought Hermione's and interlaced their fingers. "This love."

Hermione stared at him in shock as his last words rung through her mind in echoes, leaving her stunned and unable to form a coherent thought. Lucius noticed her loss of speech, and reached a solution, leaning in to align his lips to hers and add conviction to his words with a chaste, tender kiss. As if the ice encasing her had suddenly splintered apart, Hermione felt overwhelmed by her freedom as she kissed him back, liberated by the truth.

Pulling back to draw a breath, Hermione looked into the eyes of her joy, taking in every single feature of his perfect imperfections with a new delight, alight with wonder at how swiftly her pain had transformed into her euphoria. Smiling for the first time in weeks, a thought suddenly struck her.

"Was it you who –"

"Returned your shoe and gloves," Lucius finished for her. He gave her a small, real smile as she gazed at him with wonderment, unable to figure out what had driven him to do such trivial things. As if he knew what she was thinking, Lucius gave his explanation.

"I could not stop watching you," he confessed quietly as his thumb rubbed soft circles on her hand. "I could not bear the thought of your disappointment at having lost them."

"They weren't the only things I missed," Hermione admitted with a smile, blushing at the inadvertent cliché of her words. Lucius didn't seem to mind, for he replied with another cherishing kiss that ended as thoughts entered the equation.

"Tell me, where is the logic in all this?" Lucius asked suddenly as his hands cupped Hermione's face. "What is this…love that I am changed by? Where is the explanation? The reasons?"

"There are no reasons for love, Lucius," Hermione replied with a knowing smile as his brow creased a little in a frown. Smiling wider at the apparent bemusement of her lover, Hermione pulled him in for another kiss that seared with their renewed and collaborated passion, before they had to part to regain their breath. As final words for the night, Hermione whispered the truth into his ear as he carried her into the house.

"I love you."


End file.
